You Won't Know
by Relised
Summary: The day Mickey's life had came crashing down around him started out peacefully enough. After getting his skull bashed in, Mickey can't remember anything. Not even the red head who was injured over seas that everyone thinks he should know. Mentions of depression and suicide attempts.
1. Chapter 1

_I Don't own Shameless._

* * *

**You Won't Know: Chapter 1**

The day Mickey's life had came crashing down around him started out peacefully enough. He had the day off from the store, a job that Linda had given him back with no questions asked after he was released from Juvie the second time. He pushed it out of his mind, knowing the only reason she had given him a day off in the middle of the week was because Gallagher was back in town for a couple weeks. He hadn't talked to the red head since he'd been released, avoiding him at all costs.

Instead, Mickey had slept in, which sadly only meant he slept until 8:30. But that was better than 6 am like he normally woke up to open the store. He'd worked out, running two miles before his lungs screamed at him that they couldn't go any further. He'd gotten Mandy to make him waffles for lunch, smirking when Lip flipped him off as Mandy left him waiting in her bedroom. He was surprised, to say the least, that Mandy and Lip were still together. He'd been locked up for two years and the couple were stronger than ever. Mickey hated how that made him jealous.

He had just sat to watch some stupid crime drama with Lip while Mandy cleaned up in the kitchen when it happened. The front door had flown open to reveal an irate Terry Milkovich. Mickey had frozen, staring at his father with wild eyes when he crossed the room. Terry grabbed Mickey around the throat, lifting the boy off the couch.

"You fucking faggot," he growled, his grip tightening around Mickey throat as he desperately clawed at his father's hands. He was pretty sure he could here Mandy screaming in the back of his mind, and Lip's voice seemed to join the chaos too. Before he knew it, Terry released Mickey, dropping the boy to the ground.

"Leave him alone!" Mandy screamed as Mickey gasped for breath. He was shaking as he climbed to his feet as fast as he could, his vision still swimming. Terry grabbed the baseball bat they kept leaning against the wall just inside of the door. He was posed to swing when Lip grabbed onto his arm.

"Leave him alone," Lip growled. "He's done nothing to you." Terry growled, slamming Lip into the wall behind him. Lip whimpered, grabbing his shoulder. The bone had broken through the skin and he could feel blood running through his fingers.

"I'm not raising a fucking faggot. No son of mine is going to be a fucking faggot!" Mickey had taking a staggering step forward, knowing he had to run. His world was spinning and he tried to move. Mandy was sobbing, and he wanted her to know he was okay. The last thing he remembered was Terry cocking the bat pack, swinging hard.

The metal bat made a loud twang sound as it connected with Mickey's skull. He stuttered forward, crashing to his knees as he felt like he was going to throw up. He was vaguely aware of Mandy screaming 'no' behind him as Terry swung again. His eyes rolled back in his head as he fell face first onto the carpet, missing the satisfaction he should have felt when Mandy his their dad in the back of the head with a frying pan.

* * *

Lip held Mandy's hand tight as they rode in the ambulance to the hospital. The paramedic was trying to get Mickey's skull to stop bleeding the they had an oxygen mask fixed tight over his face. Lip held Mandy tight to his chest, trying to block Mandy's view when Mickey started seizing, his back arching up off the bed.

"We've got to move faster, Jack!" the young paramedic yelled, gently trying to hold Mickey's head still. Mandy let out a sob, and Lip flinched when her hand dug deep into his bad shoulder. He kept his arm wrapped around her waist as they watched the nurses and doctors pushing Mickey away from them, their voices loud and frantic.

"Where are they taking him?" Mandy asked, her voice quiet as another came up and led Lip into an exam room, poking at his shoulder gently.

"There's a lot of swelling in his brain," the doctor said quietly, giving Mandy a sad look. "They're just going to operate to try to get the swelling down."

"Is he going to be okay?" she asked, squeezing Lip's hand so tight that he couldn't help but flinch.

"We'll have to see. Take everything one step at a time. But right now how about we do some x-rays on your boyfriend here so maybe we can get him back in one piece." Lip gave Mandy a small smile as an orderly pushed him away from the worried girl.

"It's going to be a long night," he whispered as the doctor gave him a sad smile.

"I feel like that may be understatement of the year, son," he said, and Lip had to agree.

* * *

It was late when Lip walked into the Kash and Grab, his arm in a sling. Ian had just been thinking about closing up early, going home and getting trashed. He was being shipped out in two weeks and it felt like he was spending all his time working at the store. He glanced up when Lip walked in, blood staining his shirt.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Ian asked, raising a brow. Lip shrugged it off, wincing when the action made his shoulder throb.

"Have you ever made up with Mickey?" he asked, causing Ian to choke on the sip of water he had just taken.

"No," the red head said, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Every time I went to see him when he was locked up he refused to see me. And every time I've gone to his house since he got out he's slammed the door in my face…Why?" Lip sighed, looking away. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, not wanting to be the one to tell Ian.

"Terry found out…" Lip said, glancing up at Ian who looked confused.

"Found out about what?" He asked, leaning forward on his forearms.

"About Mickey being gay…" Lip said, sighing when the realization his Ian's face. "Tried to strangle him at first, then went after him with a baseball bat. I tried to get it out of his hands, but he just ended up breaking my shoulder before cracking Mickey in the head twice with the bat. Mandy took Terry down right afterwards, though. Hit him in the head with a frying pan…"

"Is Mickey okay?" Ian asked, and Lip hated the horrified look on his face.

"They'd taken him into surgery right after we got to the hospital. The doctor's say there's a lot of swelling in his brain and they're trying to keep it from getting worse. He had at least one seizure that I know of on the way to the hospital, but that's to be expected with the blow to the head he took. He'd just gotten out when I left, but the doctors said they won't know anything else until he wakes up. If…if he wakes up….Ian, man, it really doesn't look good…"

Ian let his head fall into his hands, his breath coming out in shaky gasps. He closed his eyes, trying to calm to churning in his stomach. His eyes flew open as he jumped to his feet, knocking over the stool he'd been sitting on.

"I'm going to be sick," he mumbled as he pushed past Lip, falling to his knees just outside the door and spilling the contents of his stomach. Arnie, the homeless man who lived in the alley grimaced, cursing at him to go someplace else and not puke in his home. Lip appeared behind Ian then, pulling him to his feet.

"Go," Lip whispered, shaking Ian slightly when his eyes blurred and spaced out. "Get to the hospital now, before it's too late Ian."

"We don't close for another two hours. I have to stay here," Ian whispered, his eyes wide.

"Go, I've got it. I'll watch over here, explain to Linda what's going on. Just go, Ian." Ian nodded, turning on his feet and leaving at a sprint. He jumped to turn stile of the El and slid into the train seconds before the door slid shut. He let his head fall into his hand again, taking deep breaths as he tried to keep himself from puking again.

* * *

Ian had tried to make it up to Mickey, which really, if you thought about it, that was really fucked up. Ian shouldn't have to apologize when Mickey was the one who ended it all. It was Mickey who told Ian he meant nothing. It had been Mickey who had wanted to kill Ian's dad, who had chickened out once it was possible people might actually know. Which now that Ian thought about it, he understood why Mickey had been so afraid.

But Ian really had tried to make things better. He had graduated from West Point early, and he'd had a month from graduation to the time he was going to be shipped out and the only thing he wanted to do was make things right. The entire time he'd been at West Point all he could think about was how much he missed Mickey; the feel of his calloused hands on him as he pounded into the boy. It wasn't like he couldn't find it elsewhere, but it wasn't the same. It was only Mickey, who repeatedly would bite down on his shoulder to keep from yelling out, that would make Ian feel alive. He'd had many questions by his roommates about the teeth marks on his shoulders. All he'd done was smirk with a shrug. He was mysterious at West Point, not the open book he was around the south side.

Ian almost missed his stop, still staring at his feet with his head in his hands. He jumped up last minute, the doors bouncing off his arm and causing him to curse as he dragged his arm out. With a shaky breath he headed off to the hospital, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He found Mandy outside smoking, twirling a piece of hair around her finger as she blew smoke out of her nose. He didn't say anything as he pulled her into a hug, feeling her tears slide down the back of his neck.

"He tried to kill Mickey," Mandy sobbed, tightening her grip around Ian's arm. Ian let out a shaky breath, rubbing her back.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

"They arrested him. He might stay gone for good this time," Mandy whispered, sounding relieved.

"How is he?" Ian asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"He hasn't woke up yet," Mandy said, pulling back and taking another hit off of her cigarette. "The doctors said there's still a bit of swelling in his brain and they're trying to keep an eye on it. The doctor said there's a possibility of memory loss, but we won't know until he wakes up. But they've got him sedated a bit so he doesn't wake up and make anything worse…"

"I'm sorry, Mandy…" Ian trailed off, squeezing her hand.

"I guess it rather be Mickey than you," Mandy whispered, brushing a nonexistent hair off of Ian's forehead. "Mickey's tuff, he can take it. But my dad would have killed you if he'd have gotten his hands on you…"

"I've heard this before," Ian mumbled with a shrug. "Can I see him?" Mandy sighed, stubbing out her cigarette and taking Ian's hand and leading him inside.

* * *

The days came in went, and after a week the doctor's took Mickey off the sedatives. But even then, he still didn't wake up. Ian spent his days working at the Kash and Grab and his nights sleeping at the hospital, holding Mickey's hand when he knew the boy couldn't fight back. And as the days kept passing, the more worried Ian got. He was being shipped overseas within the next week and Mickey still hadn't woke up.

But the night before he was supposed to leave, Ian sat awake, staring at Mickey's sleeping form.

"You've got to wake up," he whispered, squeezing the ex-con's hand. "I can't leave when you're still like this, but I don't really have a choice come tomorrow. I've got my papers and I ship out tomorrow. I'm not really sure where I'm going, but even if I did I couldn't tell you. But I need you to wake up before I leave, Mick. I need to know you're going to be okay."

Ian sat back, wiping at the tears that fell down his face. He curled in on himself, pulling his hand out of Mickey's limp one. He didn't want to leave, but he knew he had no choice. He watched as Mickey's chest slowly raised and fell. Ian was just starting to drift off when he noticed something different.

Mickey whimpered, his head moving back and forth as he burrowed further into the bed. His left hand slowly raised up and touched the bandage wrapped tightly around his head, whimpering again at the feel. Ian moved to the edge of his chair, his eyes wide.

"Mick?" he whispered, reaching for Mickey's hand again. Mickey moaned, arching his neck back. And then he was blinking his eyes open, squinting as if the light was too bright. "Mickey, can you hear me?"

"Where am I?" the dark haired boy asked, his voice quiet and timid.

"You're in the hospital, Mickey," Ian whispered, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "You're dad found out…"

"Found out about what?" the ex-con whispered, his eyes wide. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

Ian almost fell off the bed, clinching his eyes tight as it felt like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs. He sat with his back against the bed, his head in his hands as he took deep breaths, trying to keep from throwing up. After a minute, Ian climbed back to his feet, sitting with razor straight posture on his chair.

"You don't remember what happened, Mickey?" Ian asked quietly, searching the other boys face. Mickey shrugged, shaking his head.

"No. I don't remember anything. I don't even who I am, other than Mickey since that's what you keep calling me. But seriously, who are you?"

"J-j-just a friend," Ian stuttered, climbing to his feet. "I've got to go. I'll let your sister know you're awake."  
"I have a sister?" Mickey asked, his wide. Ian closed his eyes turning away.

"Yeah. Her names Mandy. She'll explain everything. I've got to go. Just…Take care Mickey," Ian said, his voice quiet. With one last glance at the broken boy in front of him, he turned and ran, never stopping until he collapsed on his bed, his breath coming out in chocked sobs. But what killed Ian the most was that he couldn't stay, couldn't remain in Chicago to make sure the boy he loved remembered him. He was terrified that he was going to go off to war and get killed, and Mickey would never know who he was. But that was the chance he'd just have to take.

* * *

_**AN:**__ I know, as if I don't have enough unfinished storied. But I hope you liked it. Please review. I'll try to update everything soon. Thanks!_


	2. Chapter 2

_I don't own Shameless._

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**You Won't Know: Chapter 2**

"Yeah, Addy will be 4 in April, then we're gonna have another little one due in July. What about you Gallagher?"

Ian jumped, looking up with wide eyes at the three people staring at him. It was late, and they were sitting outside their tent someplace west of Iraq. Ian glanced around , taking a hit off his cigarette as he raised a brow.

"Sorry, what?" He said, letting out a breath of smoke.

"You got a girl back home? Kids waiting for you?" a guy named Sampson asked and Ian snorted.

"No. I had a guy, but…" Ian trailed off, taking another deep hit off his cigarette.

"Had?" his Sergeant asked, and Ian didn't miss how the past tense was what had the man held up, not the fact that Ian was gay.

"Yeah. It's been a while. We're from the South Side of Chicago; being out would get you killed back there. Mick's the real fucked for life type; he'd been to juvie twice before he was eighteen. My drunk of a dad walked in on us once." Ian hesitated when he saw Reagan flinch. "Course, Mick's way of keeping my dad from talking was threatening to kill him."

"He didn't, did he?" Reagan asked, and Ian hated how quiet the boy sounded. The blonde was the youngest of their platoon; having enlisted the day after graduation.

"No. I warned Frank, which pissed Mick off. We got in this huge fight, he said a lot of things I hope he didn't mean, and then he took off and punched a cop in the face. Did two years in juvie for it."

"You ever try to get back with him?" Sergeant Klienfelter asked, stealing a cigarette from Ian's pack.

"Never really got a chance," Ian said with a shrug, staring at his hands. "I was only home a month and he avoided me most of that time. And then the accident happened and I had to leave."

"Accident?" Sampson asked, his head cocked to the side.

"His dad found out," Ian said quietly. "Tried to kill Mick; tried to strangle him and when that didn't work took a baseball bat to his head. He hit him twice before Mick's sister hit him in the head with a frying pan. There was a lot of swelling in his brain and then he was in a coma for two weeks. Mickey woke up the night before I left bet he doesn't remember anything. Especially not who I am."

"Like amnesia?" Reagan asked and Ian looked away, nodding.

"Fuck, Gallagher," Klienfelter said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, well…It's not like we were together anyway."

"You think he'll remember you?" Sampson asked and Ian shrugged.

"It's up to his sister and what she tells him at this point. Kind of hard to make someone remember you from over here."

"Shit," Sampson said.

"Well looks like we've got to get you home in one piece, Corporal Gallagher. You've got to make that boy remember you," Klienfelter said, and Ian couldn't help the smirk that covered his face.

* * *

"How about him? Do you know who he is?" Mandy asked, sitting cross legged at the foot of Mickey's hospital bed with a stack of pictures. She was currently holding up a picture of their brother Tommy. Mickey furrowed his brow at her but shook his head slowly. "That's Tommy. He's out brother. He's up state in prison." Mickey nodded but didn't say anything. "Mickey? Who am I?" Mandy asked.

"You're a nurse?" Mickey said and Mandy groaned, rubbing at her eyes.

"No Mickey," She said for the twentieth time since Mickey had woken up. "I'm your sister Mandy. I'm not a nurse."

"Oh. Right," Mickey said, and Mandy could tell he was tired.

"Why don't you take a break? I have to go to work for a little while anyway. I'll stop in and check on you later," Mandy whispered and kissed him on the forehead as she climbed to her feet.

"Okay. Thanks, uh…um…"

"Mandy," she said again, biting her lip to keep herself from crying.

"Oh, right," Mickey said. Mandy squeezed his arm and left, the tears falling in fat drops down her face. Lip was waiting in the hall way and steadied her as she stumbled out of Mickey's room.

"Today any better?" he asked, his arms wrapped tight around her and his face buried in her hair.

"No," Mandy said, pulling away and rubbing at her eyes. "I told him who I was as soon as I walked in this morning at 8:30. By 10 he'd already forgotten who I was again."

"Hour and a half? That's better than last week, right? I mean then it was only an hour." Lip said, flinching when Mandy swatted at him.

"I don't know how much more I can handle," Mandy whispered, taking Lip's hand and leading him down the hall. "I can't take him home like this. He'd be stabbed before he even knew something was wrong. That's not Mickey in there, Lip. That's not my brother."

"I hate to say this," Lip said, squeezing her hand. "But that's what's left of your brother after your dad got a hold of him."

"Yeah, well that piece of shit better thank God he's gotten life in prison, because the next time I see him, I'll kill him on the spot."

"Yeah, well you'd have to beat me to it," Lip said, pulling Mandy close to him as they waited for the bus.

* * *

Mandy fidgeted in the chair in Doctor Brim's office while she waited for the man to return. She'd taken over Mickey's job at the Kash and Grab and Linda had let her go early so she could meet with the doctor's to talk about Mickey. Mandy hated doing this by herself, but they didn't have any other family left.

"Ms. Milkovich," an older man said as he entered the office, causing Mandy to jump. "I'm Doctor Steven Brim; I'm your brother's doctor."

"Mandy," she said, shaking his hand.

"Now Mickey suffered a great brain injury…" Dr. Brim trailed off, and Mandy couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes.

"No shit," she mumbled, and Dr. Brim gave her a small smile.

"Mickey is currently suffering from both long term and short term memory loss. The short term memory loss is happening with a span of an hour and a half before his brain seems to reset itself."

"Is there anything you can do about it?" Mandy asked, chewing on her finger nail.

"Currently, there's not much we can do. The brain is a very tricky organ; you never know how it's going to react. As of right now, the best we can do is memory exercises to try to improve his memory span."

"What kind of memory exercises?" Mandy asked, burrowing her brow.

"It may seem a little childish, but small things like matching games, go fish, guess who. We'll also give him three different objects each day to try to remember as long as possible."

"Mickey's not going to like that," Mandy said, rubbing her hands over her legs. "Or at least old Mickey wouldn't."

"I understand how this is hard on you, Ms. Milkovich."

"Mandy," she said again, not looking up.

"Mandy. Physically nothing is wrong with your brother…."

"I can't take him home!" Mandy said, looking up with wide eyes. "Not like this. He'd get killed within the hour."

"I understand. I do have a suggestion. We can move your brother to a long term facility. Specialists there will be able to work with him and hopefully increase his memory."

"We don't have the money for that…" Mandy said quietly, looking back down at her hands. "I'm not ever sure how we're going to pay for the normal hospital bills."

"The state's picking up the tab," Dr. Brim said with a small smile. "Since your brother is currently in the middle of a law suit with your father, the state is paying for his treatment as compensation."

"Really?" Mandy said, the weight seeming to lift off her shoulders.

"With your consent, we can move him by the end of the week." Dr. Brim said, sliding a brochure across the desk to Mandy.

"Where do I sign?" she asked and Dr. Brim gave her a small smile.

* * *

"Hey, how'd it go with the doc?" Lip asked, opening a beer and handing it to Mandy when she walked into her house.

"They're moving him," she said, taking a gulp of beer.

"Where?" Lip asked his eyes wide.

"Pine Towers," she said as she lit a cigarette.

"The psych ward?" Lip asked, his voice loud as his eyes grew wider.

"They have specialists there that work with memory loss and brain injuries. They don't think he's crazy, Lip," Mandy said with a roll of her eyes.

"Do you think it'll help?" Lip asked, dropping down onto the couch next to her.

"It's gotta be better than what we have already," Mandy said, letting her head fall back against his shoulder. They sat in silence for a moment before Lip cleared his throat.

"We got mail today," he said, digging in his pocket.

"Yeah? You get mail every day," Mandy said, burrowing her brow.

"Yeah, well we got mail from Ian today," he said, glancing up at Mandy's blank expression. "There was a bunch of letters; he's just sending them all to our house since I guess he doesn't know addresses other than ours. But anyway, there was one for you. And one for Mickey…." Lip trailed off, watching as Mandy reached out with shaky hands to take the two letters. She glanced at the names, placing hers on the end table and ripping Mickey's in half. "What the hell?" Lip said, his eyes wide.

"We're not playing this game," she mumbled with a shrug. "It's hard enough getting him to remember me for longer than an hour; we're not telling him about the guy he used to fuck that's overseas in the fucking army."

"You knew about that?" Lip said, his eyes wide.

"Yes, I fucking knew about it; not that either of them actually told me. But I knew, and if you think about it, this is all Ian's fault."

"How do you figure that? It'd been two fucking years since they'd done anything; Mickey was in jail and Ian was at West Point, remember?"

"Had they been careful in the first place, Kermit at the bar would have never saw them those two years ago, and dad never would have known." Lip opened his mouth to argue but Mandy put a finger to his lips. "I don't want to fight about this. I'm telling you now-I'm not telling Mickey about Ian. It's for his own good."

Lip sighed but nodded, running his fingers over the shreds of Ian's letter.

* * *

"Gallagher, mail!" Sergeant Klienfelter yelled, dropping a thick envelope on Ian's bunk. The red head tore open the envelope, flipping through the letters three times before he decided there was nothing from Mickey. There was nothing from Mandy, either.

Ian sighed, settling on a letter from Lip. His heart felt like it stopped at the end of the letter.

"_All in all, things back here are okay. I've been spending a lot of time with Mandy trying to deal with the whole Mickey thing. Just so you know, things aren't much better. He's got a lot of long term memory loss and short term too. The short term memory loss has gotten a bit better, not much though. He's gotten to two hours before his mind just reset and deletes everything. _

_ "I gave your letter for Mick to Mandy, but Mandy didn't give it to him. She said there's too much shit going on to try to tell him about you. I can't say I blame her; it's hard enough watching him forget her on a daily basis. And it's her choice what we tell him about after all…_

_ "They've moved him to Pine Towers so some specialists that work with brain injuries can work with him. Who knows if it will help; we'll just have to see. I'll try to keep you posted as much as possible. Just keep yourself together and stay safe. I'm going to need you to come home in one piece, okay? Love you, buddy._"

Ian kicked the bed frame several times, pulling at him impossibly short hair. He crouched down, wrapping his arms around his stomach as the tears filled his eyes. He hated seeming weak; but this was just unfair. Mickey was the only thing that ever seemed to work for him and now Mickey couldn't remember him. He heard a sound of movement behind him and Ian rubbed roughly at his eyes.

"You okay, Gallagher?" a quiet voice said and Ian looked up to see Reagan hovering behind him.

"I'll be fine, thanks," Ian mumbled shoving the letter under his pillow.

"I'm here if you need to talk," Reagan whispered, and Ian waved off the younger boy. Ian could barely admit what was going on was true to himself, let alone someone else. He'd only been there for three weeks, but Ian was ready to go home.

* * *

_**AN**__: I hope you liked it. Please review._


	3. Chapter 3

_I don't own Shameless._

* * *

**You Won't Know: Chapter 3**

As much as he hated to say it, the first time Ian got hurt in the line of duty he was beyond ready to come home. He'd been overseas for a little over six months and had heard very little of what was going on at home. Namely, he had no idea what was going on with Mickey, and every time he brought it up in a letter or one of their Skype dates, Lip always side stepped to topic.

The day Ian had gotten hurt he was at his wits end. He was running on even less sleep than normal and had been waiting for a mission that Sergeant Kleinfelter had been warning them about for weeks. They headed out early that morning, the sun barley up. He sat in the back of the Humvee, his head ducked as Kleinfelter ran over their objective one last time.

Reagan's legs twitched next to him, and Ian had to stop himself from reaching over to grab his leg to stop him. The Humvee pulled up to their designated spot, the troop jumping out and falling into position. Ian crouched along the side of the building, waiting for his sergeant to give them the signal. Reagan crouched just behind him, waiting to take Ian's lead.

"We might be here for a while," Ian whispered, watching as Sergeant Kleinfelter whispered something to Sampson, his hands waving in signals that weren't for them.

"Yeah, I know," Reagan sat, letting his head fall back against the building. They stayed there quietly, on edge as they looked around and waited. "Hey look, a puppy!" Reagan whispered, nudging Ian's arm.

"Yeah, I see it," Ian whispered, glancing back at Kleinfelter again. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched as the puppy approached a bush that was wrapped in barb wire. He felt Reagan stiffen next to him when the small pup's paw got stuck in the wire. "Don't fucking move, Reagan," he mumbled, watching as Kleinfelter and Sampson moved into position.

"We can't just leave it like that! It's hurt and it's stuck," Reagan whispered, starting to inch past Ian. Ian stuck his arm out, pushing the younger boy back behind him.

As soon as Kleinfelter gave the signal, Ian moved out of their position, falling in behind the rest of his troop. The only problem was that Reagan didn't fallow. Instead he snuck around, trying to rescue the stupid puppy. Ian let out a low growl as he fell back.

"Reagan, let's go! You're going to get us killed," he hissed. Instead, Reagan waved an arm back at him and moved closer to the bush. Ian kept an eye on his feet, knowing that the young boy had screwed up as soon he put his foot down. "Reagan, don't move. Seriously. Look down." He looked down, and then looked back up at Ian with wide eyes.

"Gallagher…" he whispered and Ian cursed under his breath. The boy was standing on a trigger that was a weight sensor. There was no way that Reagan could get away from it buy himself. He glanced back to see that the rest of the troop was already in their next position and would be no help to them now.

"I'm going to hit you and you need to just go with it, okay? That's the only way we're both going to get out of this. Just go slack, okay?" Ian said, letting his gun drop down to ground beside him.

"Just get me out of here," Reagan said, his voice cracking. Ian nodded, taking a step back to get a better running start.

"Okay," Ian said, his heart racing. This was so stupid. Why was he always in these stupid situations. "One. Two." He didn't get to three, before bursting off, slamming into Reagan and trying to throw them as far away from the blast as possible.

He let out a string of curses as the shrapnel cut into his back, his brain rattling around in his skull as he and Reagan landed nearby. He felt like his eardrums had burst while everything sounded like it was underwater.

"Gallagher!" He could hear someone yelling, and he tried to life his head, to let them know he was okay and that they needed to check on Reagan first. But everything hurt and moving made it feel worse. "Medic! We need a medic over here!"

"Gallagher? Gallagher!" Ian let out a moan as Sampson tried to roll him over. "Gallagher, can hear me?"

"A fucking puppy," Ian moaned before he passed out from the pain.

* * *

"This is stupid," Mickey mumbled, picking up the same card and putting it down again and again.

"If it'll help you remember, then it's not stupid," Lip said with a chuckle. Mickey groaned, siting the card down again. "Just think about it. Where have you seen the blue square before?"

Mickey chewed on his lip, his eyes roaming the blank side of the cards. He glanced up at Lip who gave him an encouraging smile. Finally Mickey reached out, picking up a card from the middle of the top row. He gave Lip a blinding smile when that card ended up being the blue square.

"See. You can do it."

"Lip…Lip right?" Mickey said quietly, adding the two blue square cards to the small stack he had started.

"Yeah," Lip said, giving him another small smile.

"When do I get to come home? I don't like it here. Someone….I think someone screams every night and I can't sleep." Lip bit his lip, knowing that the person who's been screaming was actually Mickey himself.

"Once you get more of your memory back, bud. It's not safe for you right now…We don't…We don't live in the best neighborhood."

"I just want to go home…" Mickey trailed off, getting up from the little table in his room and throwing himself on the bed. "At least I think I do."

"It'll come back to you," Lip said quietly from the table. "It's not going to be easy, but it'll come back to you at some point." Lip looked up when a soft knock came from the door.

"Mr. Gallagher?" the nurse asked quietly. "There's a call for you at the nurse's station. It sounded like an emergency." Lip sighed, climbing to his feet.

"I'll be right back Mick," he said, following the nurse to where a phone was waiting for him.

"'Lo?' He said, running a tired hand over his face.

"Lip? It's Fiona. Ian's been hurt."

"Fuck, what happened?" Lip groaned, glancing back at Mickey's room.

"There was some kind of explosion where he was trying to save some other kid in his unit. They said it's not life threatening, but they're sending him home for a little while to heal." Fiona sounded like she was close to crying again.

"When will he be home?" Lip asked quietly.

"The officer I talked to said next week. Their currently treating a bunch of burns and cuts over wherever they are. Once they say he's stable they'll fly him home."

"Okay. Um, I'm going to stay with Mick for a bit longer. I kind of upset him so I might as well ride that out until he forgets. But I'll be home as soon as I can, okay?"

"I love you Lip," Fiona said seriously. "Just come home quick."

"Got it. Love you, too."

* * *

Ian woke up to an obnoxious beeping in his ear. It took him a minute to remember what had happened, but when it all set in, he tried to sit up as fast possible. He let out a pained gasp as he laid back, the beeping in his ear sped up.

"Corporal Gallagher, glad to see you back in the land of the living," the doctor said, grabbing his chart off the end of the bed.

"What happened?" Ian asked stupidly, squinting as he rubbed at his eyes.

"Well you got the poor end of the stick while trying to rescue and idiot who was rescuing a puppy."

"Reagan…Is Reagan okay?" he asked, letting his eyes fall shut.

"Corporal Reagan is fine. He'll be back with your unit tomorrow. You, however, get to enjoy a little home time on medical leave. As long as your fever stays down today and tomorrow we'll be sending you home Friday to recuperate. Now get some rest."

Ian let his head fall back, a low sigh escaping his lips. "All this for a fucking puppy."

* * *

Lip and Fiona stood right past the security gate, waiting for Ian. Lip paced back and forth, running his hand through his hair every so often.

"Will ya stop doing that?" Fiona said, glaring at Lip with her hands on her hips. "You're making me nervous."

"Do you know the extent of his injuries? I mean you said it was life threatening but what is it? I mean I already spend most of my days in the hospital with Mick. I don't want Ian to be fucked up, too," Lip said, flicking at his nose. He would kill for a cigarette, his nerves getting to him.

"Officer O'Grady said he took a lot of shrapnel to his back and his legs. He's got quite a few burns too."

"So nothing permanent."

"Unless you count scars and mental bullshit," Fiona said, smirking when Lip rolled his eyes. "Here he comes," she mumbled, moving up closer to the gate.

Ian sat in a wheelchair, a pair of crutches balanced over his legs. His right leg was straight out in front of him, and Lip was sure that it was probably wrapped tight in a bandage under his uniform pants. He sat stiffly, and Lip could tell he was trying to keep his back from touching the back of the chair. The airport assistant pushed Ian through the security gate and up to Fiona and Lip.

"Hey guys," Ian said with a small smile, and Lip tried to smile back. He hated the dark circles under his brothers eyes and the bruised from various IV's and treatments on his arms.

"Hey buddy," Lip said, knowing his smile probably looked like a grimace. "How you feeling?"

"Like shit," Ian mumbled, and Fiona chuckled as the airport worker locked the chair. Lip held the crutches steady and Fiona helped Ian out of the wheelchair, holding onto his elbow until he was steady on his feet.

"Here is your bag, Mr. Gallagher," the young airport worker whose name tag read Alex, said.

"Thanks. Thanks for everything," Ian said, taking a hobbling step forward.

"Thank you for your service, Mr. Gallagher," Alex said. Ian nodded, slowly following Lip out to the parking lot.

"So what the hell did you do while you were off being a hero?" Lip said, sliding into the backseat with Ian's crutches and Fiona backed out of the parking spot.

"There's this kid in my unit. Super young, super innocent, but not quite all there. He saw a puppy while we on a mission and tried to rescue it. He ended up standing on a weight censored bomb. Basically, I had to tackle him off of it to save him. And I took the brunt of the explosion. But I'll be fine. Really."

"Next time?" Fiona said, reaching over and taking Ian's hand. "Don't be a fucking hero."

"Got it," Ian said, a small smile on his face.

* * *

Later that night, Ian sat perched on the edge of the couch as Lip dug through his bag. He piled the collection of gauze and creams the Army doctor had given him on the coffee table in front of Ian. He moved around beside his brother, slowly peeling the bandages away from his back.

"Jesus, Ian," Lip mumbled, pausing when Ian hissed in pain.

"I know," Ian said through clinched teeth. "The doc said another quarter of an inch to the right it would have hit my spine and I'd be on permanent discharge. I guess I was lucky. The deepest ones are up here on my shoulder and down by my tailbone."

"That looks painful. What about your leg?" Lip asked as he gently rubbed the disinfectant cream over Ian's stitches.

"Shrapnel cut through the back of my leg. If I bend it, it would rip the stitches out," He said in a monotone voice, hissing as Lip pressed hard on a specifically tender cut."

"Jesus."

"Yeah," Ian said quietly, holding his arms up so Lip could wrap the gauze around his torso. The red head slowly laid forward on his stomach so Lip could get to the cuts and burns on the back of his legs. He mumbled a thanks as Lip handed him a glass of water so he could take his antibiotics and pain pills. Finally, he gently laid back on the stack of blankets Fiona had laid out for him, his right leg propped up on the leg of the couch. "How's Mickey?" he asked after a few moments of silence.

"Slowly getting better. His short term memory is starting to get a bit better. It's not much, but he's remembered who I am for two days straight before I had to remind him again. It's a lot better than the two hour span he had when he woke up."

"But he's okay?"

"Physically? Yeah. He still doesn't remember what happened to him. Or his brothers. Or Terry. And basically everything that Mandy and I haven't told him."

"What about me?" Ian asked quietly, gently rubbing at his sore leg.

"Mandy still doesn't want to tell him about you yet. It's just… It would just confuse him. He doesn't remember anything, Ian. He probably doesn't even remember he was gay. It's not fair to confuse him anymore right now."

"I want to see him," Ian said, turning so he could meet Lip's eyes.

"Mandy will never go for it. I'm sorry, dude, but she's considered his legal guardian and she has to sign off on the visiting list. She won't do it."

"It's not fair," Ian whispered after a few moments of silence. "I just…I just wanted him to admit he wanted me. And now he doesn't even fucking remember me. I just want to see him, Lip. I just…I just want to see him one more time."

"I know, Ian. I know. Just give him some more time." Ian nodded, carefully rolling on his side and pulling his good leg up to his chest. Lip was man enough not to point out that he could hear Ian's sobs or that he noticed the way his shoulders shook. Ian was grateful of that.

* * *

_**AN**__: Sorry this took so long! Please review!_


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